The Devil Within

Chapter 3

Its pretty much the same here at Quantilhill Academy. Students rushing everywhere to get things done. Teachers trying to walk through the hallway without dying in the process. And me struggling to get to the library without getting smashed by the crowd.

Quantihill Academy is made up of three huge buildings , one of which houses the greatest library ever. Its the only place to go without worrying about tripping , falling or having unhealthy contact with people. It has those floor-to-ceiling windows which overlooks the little garden in our school , making it the perfect spot to snooze off a little.

Usually it works fine, until the school beauty approaches and hits you with a book.

"Ow!" I look up in time to see Melanie taking the seat opposite me.

"Tell me about it," she stated as if I would get her drift.

"You do realise you can't be seen with me," I whispered to her, pushing up my glasses to emphasize my point. With one hand, she smacks me roughly on the arm, and snatches my glasses off with the other.

"Oh please, am I that hideous?" She fingers my black, square-rimmed glasses.

'No, I am!' I whispered impatiently. She puts on my glasses like she hadn't heard me . I gotta admit, she does look good in glasses. But that's not the point now. I needed the sleep to wash away the weirdness of the morning, but I can't really do that if everyone's gazes are on us. 

"So back to the main question, are you unwell or something? You look terrible." She leans in slowly and her tips of her eyebrows were pointed downwards in worry. 

I grimaced. She was right. 

I slept through the first two periods, dreaming about more cats and talking animals, which was frightening enough to jolt me awake, and earned myself a glare from the lecturer.

I can't explain why I wake up feeling like I was deprived of any sleep even though I'm sure I'm knocked out the moment I'm on my bed. Or why my body feels like lead.  

Not to mention my little dizzy episodes this morning. And that stuff on the bus.

"M'fine, just lack of sleep," I mumbled. "I'm still doing the biology essay, unlike someone who completed it before it was even given out as an assignment." I try to get my way around this, but as usual she gave me the don't-give-me-your-nonsense look.

"I thought Mr. Sharpe would have dissected you by now." 

"He would, if he knew how badly I'm doing for this term."

Well, she wasn't entirely wrong there. When I first complained about the phantom aches, Dad made me go through a whole series of medical examinations. Those he could do he did it himself. Others that he couldn't, he sent me to a hospital out of town to do it. I thought it was a bit excessive, but then I couldn't change his mind, and Austin didn't bother helping me on that either, so I went through it without much of a fight. The doctors said it was just normal muscle aches. I kept quiet about the fact that I'm not physically active nor anywhere near the passing mark for my phys ad. lessons.

Then there's the terrible headache, like a blinding white flashing behind my eyelids. And all of a sudden I would be fine again. 

I'm worried about my physical condition since I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything to warrant these aliments, but what happened in the kitchen this morning was more disturbing. Their sneaky behavior was totally pricking me the entire day. It almost makes me wonder if I have some terminal illness that they were too afraid to let me know. 

I sat up straighter and dismissed that thought immediately. If it's something as serious as that, they would have locked me in an intensive care unit already, given Dad's character.